Being a Doctor Sucks Sometimes
by Amiyrasmom
Summary: I had a reviewer ask about the little girls in 'The Consequences of Overprotectiveness and Insecurity'. So this is their story. Honey 'Verse. Warnings for sadness.
1. Being a Doctor Sucks Sometimes

**Disclaimer: John is not mine. Sherlock is not mine. Mycroft is not mine. Much to my regret neither is Gregory Lestrade. It's not fair but that's the way it is. Now, if you'll excuse me I must go cry a copious amount of tears into my very sympathetic and soggy pillow.**

**A/N: Silvermoongirl10 asked about the five year old girls mentioned in 'The Consequences of Overprotectiveness and Insecurity' and the idea hasn't left me alone since. So I decided to write the story for her. Thanks for the idea and I hope you…well not enjoy so much as are satisfied. I'm not altogether sure I'll enjoy writing this as the girls die but since it's stuck in my head then I have to write it. Yes, by the way, it is a Honey 'Verse story. Anyway, enough of my rambling, on with the story.**

**Being a Doctor Sucks Sometimes**

"Nasty night tonight, aye, Watson?" Colin Weregild asked with a chuckle as he shook his coat out, spraying droplets of water everywhere inside the break room at St. Bart's Hospital. "Haven't seen rain like this since I was a kid."

John Watson, fourth year resident and top of the class, eyed him with disapproval. "The cleaning staff will have your hide, Weregild," he pointed out. "You could have done that out in the foyer. Now they've a mess to clean in here." He didn't much like the other man. He was a crap doctor who cared more for his paycheck than his patients.

Weregild only snorted in derision. "That's what they get paid for, innit?" He hung his coat in his locker and took a seat at the table across from John. "How long til you're off, then? You were here when I left."

John checked his watch. 11:38 pm. "Five hours and twenty two minutes," he answered with relief. He only had a little over five hours of a seventy two hour shift left. Soon he could go home and cuddle up with his husband and sleep for the next three years. That would be excellent.

Weregild laughed at the relief in John's voice. "I don't know how you do it, Watson," he shook his head with a smirk. "I think I'd quit if Cranston had me working the hours Peterson puts on you."

John gave a mute shrug and made a note to drop that bit of information into Cranston's ear. Nearly every doctor on staff had tried to come up with some reason to make Weregild drop out of the program but the man was worse than a burr.

John sighed mentally and took a sip of the rancid hospital coffee in his mug before unwrapping the sandwich Mycroft had Amanda deliver about an hour ago. This was the first chance he'd had to just sit in nearly ten hours. He grinned in delight when the sandwich was unwrapped. Grilled ham and Havarti with lettuce, onions and ranch. Perfect. His favorite. "Thank you, Amanda," he breathed.

"Mandy the wife?" Weregild asked in an admiring tone. "Short little thing, long dark hair, big eyes and legs that go on forever, right? How'd a guy like you end up with her?"

John fixed him with the cold glare he and Sherlock had both learned from their elder brother. "Amanda is my brother-in-law's assistant and my friend." Hazel eyes returned to the sandwich in his hands and he allowed a small smile to cross his lips. "Really, Weregild, how could you have worked with me for the past four years and not know that I'm married to a man?"

Weregild sneered at the top of Watson's head. He had known that, actually and it irritated him that the teacher's pet was a nancy boy. He wiped his face of its expression before Watson could see it. He was the favorite after all and it wouldn't do for him to suspect how much Weregild disliked him.

"All available staff to emergency." The PA system called out in an urgent sounding tone. "All available staff report to the Emergency Room immediately."

"Dammit," John cursed under his breath and rewrapped the sandwich. He stood up and put it safely back in his locker for later. "Let's go, Weregild."

Weregild leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head with a smug smirk. "I'm not on the clock for another fifteen minutes, Watson. I'll be along in a bit."

John sent him a furious glare and frowned deeply. "We're needed now, Weregild, not in fifteen minutes. Let's go," he spun on his heel and strode out the door at a near run.

Weregild snorted as the other man sped from the room. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. "They don't pay me near enough to run through the halls like a madman ten minutes before my shift starts, Watson," he murmured and swiped up John's mug of coffee, downing it in two swallows. It was going to be a long night.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

John skidded to a stop in front of the check-in desk in the Emergency Room. "What've we got?" He asked the charge nurse, Jill, before he'd even come to a full stop.

She gave him an amused look for his rushing before pulling on her professional nurse face. "Train crash on the Blackfriar's Bridge, multiple severe injuries. We're in for a busy night, Dr. Watson."

John nodded and put his own game face on to cover his dismay at the disaster. "Got an ETA on the ambulances?"

Jill nodded. "The first ones should be pulling in now."

John turned towards the doors to the outside. "Teams in place already?" He asked as he headed for them.

"On standby," she called to his retreating back.

"Watson!" A male voice called out just as John reached the doors. John turned his head to the voice but didn't stop moving. "Where's Weregild?"

"He's not on until midnight, Dr. Peterson," John answered as they pushed through the doors shoulder to shoulder. Peterson merely gave him a raised brow. "He's in the break room waiting to clock in." John admitted in a disgusted voice.

"Can't afford to send anyone to fetch him," Peterson growled. "Cranston!" He raised his voice to be heard over the pounding rain. The elderly man looked over and frowned in question. "Your trouble child's up in the break room." The frown switched to a scowl.

The elderly man ambled over to the pair. "Stupid boy," he growled. "Always flakes out just when he's needed, doesn't he?" He visibly calmed himself. "We haven't time to worry over him now." His watery blue eyes trained themselves on John. "Ready for this, Watson?"

"No," John said curtly. He shrugged, unconcerned at their astonishment. "Being a doctor sucks sometimes," he explained just as the first ambulances from the crash roared into the drive, sirens screaming and lights blazing.

"That it does, my boy, that it does," Dr. Cranston murmured as they rushed into the rain to meet the ambulances and their patients.


	2. The Twins

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. Really. I had to buy a new pillow over that. The old one was ruined from me crying into it too much. I was hoping someone would send Greg to soothe me but it never happened. So not fair.**

**A/N: At present this story is going to be a three shot. That could change. You know me, I let my characters take over my brain and fingers and do what they want. If I don't they get all sulky and silent and then I can't write at all or they get belligerent and loud and then I still can't write at all. Warning: this is not a happy fic. There will be death and there will be sorrow. You've been warned and if you're still reading then I thank you immensely. **

**Also, sorry for the late update. I was called into work early this morning and didn't have a chance to post until now.**

**The Twins**

John blinked blearily at the chart in front of him. The words were blurry and made no sense whatsoever. "John?" A female voice asked beside him. "Dr. Watson? Are you alright?"

John slowly turned his head and took in the woman standing beside him. "Jill? What?" He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. "Just tired."

The charge nurse snorted in disbelief. "Exhausted is more likely," she pulled the chart from his hand. "Go home, Dr. Watson. You did good. We've got it under control now and you were supposed to be off over two hours ago. Your husband's called three times, you know? I think he's worried for you."

John rubbed at his eyes again. "That's probably an excellent idea," he admitted. "I can't even read the charts at the moment. Eyes are too blurry. Thanks, Jill."

She patted his shoulder in a comforting gesture. It had been a long night for all of them and John had been everywhere, helping, healing, keeping everyone calm and in order. "Shall I call you a cab?"

"I'll make sure he makes it home," the feminine voice from behind her had the charge nurse jumping, spinning to face it and clutching at her heart. "Get your things if you would, John," the pretty dark haired woman never lifted her eyes from the mobile in her hands. "I'm to take you home."

John's only reaction was a blink and a nod. "Sure." He turned and headed for the stairs to the break room. "Tell Mycroft thanks for me."

"Watson!" A male voice yelled across the Emergency Room just as he put his foot on the first stair. "Come set this arm while I go retrieve the supplies to cast it." Weregild smirked at him behind his back. He knew John was supposed to be gone already but he just couldn't resist holding the other man up.

John turned to either do as Weregild had bid or to give the other man a tongue lashing but before anyone could say anything the sound of sirens split the air again. John didn't hesitate he just ran for the doors again. His exhaustion from only moments ago gone in a blink. "What've you got?" He asked the paramedic that was hopping from the front.

"Five year old, female, twins, trapped underneath the train since the crash. Head injuries on both, broken right arm on one, left leg on the other, unknown internal injuries and various bruises and cuts from a shattered window on the passenger's side of the vehicle they were in. Parents DOA." The medic listed in a tired voice. "This is the last of the reported survivors but there may be more." The medic paused for a moment as though trying to recall something else as he reached for the handle of the door. "Oh, right, we have a rider. The girls were conscious and upset so he came with to try and keep them calm. He's done good so far. Name's Lestrade, DI Lestrade."

John immediately brightened. "Good. I know him. He's good with kids." John waited for the medic to open the door and start pulling the gurneys out. "Hey Greg," he greeted. "How are your new friends?"

"Callie can't breathe," the black haired, brown eyed girl on the right said. "Can you help her? Please?" Tears filled her eyes. "It hurts. My tummy hurts and Callie can't breathe."

Greg picked up her hand while John did a quick examination. "Hush now, Cara, Johnny will fix you both right up. He's a brilliant doctor." His brown eyes met John's and they both knew that it was almost hopeless. The damage to her insides was too extensive. John did a quick exam of the other little girl but Greg knew that there was probably no hope for either of them. "You'll be good as new in no time, baby girl."

Greg stroked the hair back from her forehead and did his best to reassure her. He paid no attention to anything around him until he felt a hand on his elbow. He looked up and tried to blink the tears from his eyes. "John?"

"Sorry son," the man's voice was too rumbly to be John's. "Dr. Alan Peterson. You and Watson are taking the girls to Exam Room Three. I've ordered a morphine drip. Stay with them while I get an OR set up. Keep them as calm and comfortable as you can."

"What's the point?" Another male voice lashed out petulantly. Greg turned his head in the direction the voice came from and was greeted with a rather attractive man, light brown hair and light green eyes. "They're both dead no matter what we do."

"Weregild!" The doctor beside Greg hissed even as Cara started to cry and turned wide eyes to where her sister lay.

"Shh, Cara, it's all right," Greg soothed and ran his fingers along her cheek. "He's not even a proper doctor. Don't worry, baby girl, me and Johnny will take care of you both. You'll be alright."

Cara reached up with a scratched and bruised arm to grab his hand and watery brown eyes met his. "Promise?" She asked tearfully.

Greg did his best to smile for her. "Course I do," he whispered and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You'll be alright. Callie too."

"Sir," a new voice interrupted them. "The Exam Room is ready. We need to get them moving."

Greg nodded and squeezed Cara's hand. "You'll feel better in just a bit," he assured her. "Johnny and me will be with you the whole time." He straightened up and looked across to see John with his head close to Callie's most likely giving her the same assurances and comfort. Sure enough when John stood up straight he had the little girl's hand clasped firmly within his own.

The orderlies pushed the gurneys through the doors and down the hallways to an exam room. John and Greg jogged beside them never letting the tiny hands clasped within their own go.


	3. Deathbed Conversations

**Disclaimer: Still haven't been gifted with a Greg Lestrade of my very own. Wish I had. Really. I wish for it every night…er, I'm not supposed to tell that or it won't come true, hunh? Damn. Oh well, I'll have to figure out a different way to get one. Characters are…not mine.**

**A/N: I'm going to warn you all again. I'm nice like that. This is a sad story. People die. People are hurt, emotionally and physically. It's not happy and rainbows and puppies and unicorns. Knowing all of this if you chose to continue reading anyway then don't forget to bring your tissues.**

**Yes, I know. I'm a bad author. Has taken much to long for me to update. My internet was glitchy and then it got sort of fixed and I had to work and then go Christmas shopping for a whole day. An ENTIRE day. And it sucked. Cuz I hate shopping. Really hate shopping. But what can you do? So here you go. One chapter of each fic to make up for not posting.**

**Deathbed Conversations**

"Greg," the breathy voice whispered. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Greg smoothed a hand over the tiny girl's forehead with one hand and squeezed her hand with the other. "Good," he answered quietly. "That's really good, Cara."

"Mommy and Daddy aren't here," she told him in a small voice. "They went to see Gran in Heaven didn't they?"

Greg closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah they did."

The tiny hand in his trembled. "Me and Callie are gonna go visit soon too." She told him with a brave smile. "What's it like there do you think?"

Greg looked away from her and over to John and Callie. John's shaking hand was over his eyes and he was leaning over the gurney whispering to the other girl. "I think…I think it's beautiful there. Everything a little girl could want. Candy and games and toys and no rules."

"And trees," Callie broke in. "Lots of trees for us to climb?" Frantic brown eyes sought out her sisters.

"Of course there will be trees," John assured them both. "What's Heaven without it's great towering trees with lots of branches to climb?"

Callie's face creased in a smile. "Good. Hear that Cara? Lots of trees."

"Dr. Watson," a voice called from the door. "They're ready for the girls now," the nurse informed them.

"Thanks, Jill," John responded. "Well, ladies, shall we go see about getting you all fixed up and then maybe we can see about finding a few trees here for you to climb?"

"Okay," Cara nodded.

John stayed beside Callie's gurney as they made their way down the hallways. He knew, with the knowledge of a doctor, that there was very little chance that either of the girls was going to make it. But they had to try. Any small chance was enough. And these girls were strong. They could fight through. They could make it.

From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Weregild stalking down a hallway with his street clothes on. He turned his head with a raised eyebrow to the orderly pushing Callie's gurney. "He's been suspended," the orderly informed him. "Cranston was furious with him for shirking his duties during an emergency situation, then he tried to push his patient off on you, then he abandoned his patient to follow you out to the ambulance bay and then his callous words in front of the girls. I don't think he'll be back this time."

John nodded but remained silent.

"Dr. John," a small voice called his attention to the girl on the gurney.

"Yes, Callie?" He asked quietly and leaned over the gurney trying not to trip as they continued to the operating theatre.

"You're going to stay with me, right?" She asked and tears lined her big brown eyes. "Cuz I'm scared."

"Of course he is," Peterson had appeared on the other side of the gurney and he patted the child on her head. "And Greg will stay with your sister, okay?" He waited for her nod. "But you have to let them go for just a moment so that they can suit up, all right?"

Tears leaked from the little girl's eyes but she nodded and let go of John's hand slowly. "You'll come back?" She begged.

John nodded. "He will," Peterson nodded. "I'll stay with you until he does. And look, my friend Milton is staying with your sister until Greg comes back."

"Okay."

**SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW**

"Cranston kicked you out?" John asked Greg as he sank next to the other man on the floor outside of the two theatres where they were struggling to save the girls.

Greg nodded. "Soon as she was under."

"Me too." John confirmed. "They're doing their best." He leaned his shoulder against his friend's.

"I don't think they'll be able to do much," Greg said soberly. "Those girls were trapped under their car and the train for six hours. They're both so hurt."

John sighed. "I know. But they have to try. And they will do everything they can."

Greg pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. "I kept seeing Colleen and Ben. When I was with the girls…I stayed with them for an hour before the rescue workers could get them out and all I could see was Colleen and Ben trapped under there."

John threw an arm over Greg's shoulders. "I know…oh, I know," he set his head against Greg's shoulder and waited for the inevitable.

**SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW**

Dr. Cranston trudged out of his theatre instants before Dr. Peterson. They both gazed down at the two men huddled together in the hallway with sad expressions.

John and Greg looked up simultaneously. "They didn't make it," John said dully.

"We did everything we could," Cranston told them. "But they…there was just too much damage."

Greg nodded. "Thank you," he muttered and hauled himself to his feet. "You off, John?"

"He is," Peterson affirmed. "I don't want to see him back in this hospital until Monday. That gives you four days, Watson. Take them and go on a trip with your husband somewhere."

John nodded and stood up. He grabbed Greg's elbow and tugged him down the hallway. Home sounded good. Maybe he could talk Sherlock into heading out to the Manor for the weekend. He could really use his Aunt Vi's comforting arms right now.

**SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW**

Greg blinked at the harsh sunlight as he and John stumbled out of the hospital. "I need a drink," Greg said suddenly.

"Yeah," John nodded. Sherlock and the manor and Aunt Vi could wait for a bit longer. "I know a place."

**SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW**

"Sherlock?" Joanne asked in a surprised tone. "What are you doing here?"

Sherlock looked up at her. "Mycroft called me to come collect my husband from here. Something about him being falling down drunk after losing a patient." He shrugged. "It must have been bad. Normally, he comes home and drags me out before he has a drink. You?"

"Greg." She said simply. "Your brother called me too." She took a deep breath. "There was some kind of accident on Black Friar's early this morning…or late last night. Greg got called in. He was with John's patients. They lost two five year old girls this morning." She hooked her arm through his. "Let's fetch our husbands and take care of them."

Sherlock remained rooted to his spot on the sidewalk. "Joanne," he started hesitantly. "I don't know…what do I do? John doesn't drink much and never until he's drunk. How do I take care of him?"

Joanne patted his arm. "Just be there. Take him home, put him to bed, give him some water and have some paracetamol waiting when he wakes and then just be there."

"All right." Sherlock nodded. It didn't sound like much but he'd learned that sometimes it was the small things that John appreciated.


End file.
